


Emeralds

by Tiara_of_Sapphires



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Episode: s02e01 The Adventures of Supergirl, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8297381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiara_of_Sapphires/pseuds/Tiara_of_Sapphires
Summary: To say that there was history between J’onn and Clark would be an understatement. It had been years and they were together again. AU-ish of 2x01





	

**Author's Note:**

> Goddamn. SO. This is dedicated to oddlyfamiliar who helped me with ideas and also for beta-ing. And to tumblr user ghostsships (for captain-ing this ship—as tiny as it is—in the first place)  
> Long live Cl’onzz. God help my soul.  
> Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Supergirl or any of its characters, this is for my own personal enjoyment or whatever blah blah blah.

He just _had_ to show up.

J’onn already had enough problems keeping Kara on track, and now he had to deal with Clark as well.

Clark Kent. Kal-El. Superman.

The greeting was cold, both of them unwilling or unable to show even a shadow of friendliness.

J’onn had hoped that it had gone unnoticed, but he was unsurprised when Alex had gone researching for a reason why. She dug up the file. Project Emerald.

They both made a choice during that mission, when a rock capable of killing the unkillable fell from the sky.

Whatever easy relationship Clark and J’onn had crumbled to nothing within a week after the final arguments quieted down and the decision had been set in stone.

It was too late. The government knew about it; there were weapons made out of it. If J’onn tried to go out and destroy all of the Kryptonite, he would be removed from the DEO.

And who would take his place? Another Hank Henshaw? Another James Harper?

J’onn’s hands were tied. There was nothing he could do, except make sure that there was little chance that the Kryptonite would be used.

He was already in a delicate position. He was Director of the DEO but he was also an alien. The US government would be stupid to not consider it to be a conflict of interest that he was leading this organization.

Why else did he act almost coldly around Kara and Clark when they were in public?

He had the keys to the weapon that could kill the two of them. He couldn’t be seen as showing favoritism. He needed to show that he would be willing to do what needs to be done if the situation warranted it, without hesitation.

By all the gods, he hoped that day would never come.

Alex said that Clark and J’onn needed to talk. She had no idea. But not here, not with so many ears listening and so many eyes watching.

J’onn grabbed Clark’s arm as he passed. Clark tensed at the contact, leaning in as J’onn did.

“My apartment, one hour,” J’onn growled, before letting him go.

* * *

Clark was five minutes early, taking in J’onn’s tiny living room. Everything was in order, if not sprinkled with dust.

“So, _now_ you want to talk.”

J’onn already knew that this conversation was going to be fruitless, ending at yet another stalemate. But they might as well have the conversation and pretend that they tried to reach an understanding.

“If you are going to be hanging around the DEO, we might as well clear the air. People are already suspicious.”

 Clark huffed, “You still have Kryptonite.”

It was a rhetorical question, but J’onn answered, “Yes.”

“The one thing that can kill me. It can kill Kara.”

J’onn curled his lip, anger simmering in answer. “It may have escaped your memory, but you and the entire world almost died because of Myriad, something _Kryptonians_ designed,” J’onn snapped.

Clark looked startled by that point for an instant, but the surprise quickly disappeared.

“That’s different.”

J’onn shook his head, exasperation building up in his chest. “The world has to be able to defend itself from—”

“From me?” Clark asked, “From Kara?”

“You know what I mean,” J’onn sighed. “Under a yellow sun, you and your people have powers that are almost limitless. Humans _need_ to have a way to defend themselves if something happens.”

Clark scoffed, gesturing at him. “There’s you.”

“Meaning?”

The energy in the room seemed to change in that moment, the two men gravitating towards each other as tempers were tested.

“For God’s sake, we both know that you are as strong as Kara or me!” Clark yelled.

J’onn thought back to Kara under the influence of Red Kryptonite. Even while erratic, Kara was still a formidable opponent. He couldn’t even defend himself against General Astra without help. He hadn’t been trying to kill either of them at the time, but even then, Clark had too much faith in him.

J’onn didn’t allow his face to twitch. He knew Clark was trying to get a rise out of him. It wasn’t going to work. It never did. Usually.

“You just don’t use your powers because you’re too much of a goddamn coward!”

J’onn slammed him against the wall before the thought even registered, his arm pressed hard against Clark’s collarbone.

Clark exhaled in shock and J’onn watched as a grin pulled at his face.

“That’s more like it, J’onn,” Clark teased.

His eyes twitched down to J’onn’s lips and a faint blush colored his cheeks. A bolt of heat shot down J’onn’s spine, making his pants tighten.

Not-so-ancient history, the two of them. It had been a while. After the Kryptonite, they had parted ways, but damn if J’onn hadn’t thought of Clark in the lonely nights between then and now.

And he was less than a foot away from him. They were breathing the same air.

J’onn knew Clark could break his hold, or just go through the wall to get away. And J’onn would have let him. But Clark just stood there, pinned, unmoving.

Clark’s head twitched forward, seeking, eyes hooded.

It was a sloppy, bruising thing. Over a decade of what-ifs and anger and betrayal culminating to something that neither of them could stop.

J’onn didn’t want it to stop.

There was no forgiveness in that kiss, not that J’onn expected it or really did anything to earn it.

J’onn palmed the front of Clark’s pants and felt the hardness there. Clark rocked into his hand, groaning against his mouth.

Nobody needed to say anything. J’onn undid the front of his pants, releasing Clark’s rapidly-hardening cock.

This conversation spiraled so quickly out of control, but he’d be lying if J’onn said he wasn’t expecting the endpoint being either a fistfight or something like _this_.

J’onn ran his fingers along the underside of Clark’s cock and then wrapped his hand around the length of it, pumping slowly.

Clark let his head thump back against the wall, his breath hitching.

“J’onn,” he breathed.

J’onn leaned forward and kissed him, pushing his tongue into Clark’s mouth, sucking and biting at his lower lip.

Clark kissed him back, but his hands remained palms-down on the wall, not touching him.

There was a reason for this. Maybe Clark was trying to prove to him that he had control over his power. That he was willing to be pliant and obedient. That when the time came, he would listen to J’onn and, by extension, the government. That Kryptonite wasn’t needed because he had control and he was willing to give up that control.

Maybe this was just reliving the glory days, back when this was easy and natural.

His lips were red and glistening and his shoulders were pressed to the wall and his hips were tilted up and out, as if in offering.

He looked so good and J’onn wanted to grab and grip and take and protect. But J’onn couldn’t keep him safe from everything nor could he keep him down forever.

Instead, he moved his hand in more deliberate strokes. It had been a while since the last time they did this, but J’onn remembered each and every way Clark liked being touched.

Clark bucked up, whispering, teasing, “Come on, J’onn, I’m getting old over here.”

J’onn twisted his hand, swiping his thumb over the sensitive head, and the cheeky smirk evaporated into something akin to awe. Clark was leaking over his hand, slicking the way.

“Did you miss this?” J’onn whispered. It was meant to come out as taunting, possessive, but it sounded softer to J’onn’s ears, a hidden plea for knowledge that he wasn’t the only one who pined.

“Yeah,” Clark replied, voice equally soft. “You?”

It was too much. It spoke of something that wasn’t and probably could never be. J’onn couldn’t handle it. It had been too long and so damn lonely.

His hand sped up

“Every day,” he hissed.

Clark nodded, acknowledging that he heard him, but obviously the hand jacking him off was dominating his focus at the moment.

J’onn’s arm slipped upwards and pressed against Clark’s throat. Clark made a sound at that: halfway between a gasp and a groan. J’onn pressed a little harder and he could feel his throat work and his pulse jump.

“Just like that,” Clark croaked, breath stuttering as J’onn swiped his thumb over the head of his cock.

J’onn tightened his hand around his cock, jacking him off faster. He supposed, for a regular human, his grip would’ve been painful. But Clark pushed his hips into it.

It was intoxicating, finally having his hands on Clark again after all those years. He was hard, straining in his pants, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop what he was doing.

“Please. J’onn, please.”

J’onn shifted his position, fully grabbing Clark by the throat. He could feel Clark’s pulse and the strong corded muscle under his fingers with every noise and breath and swallow Clark made.

And he squeezed. Not enough to stop him from breathing, but enough that there was suddenly a desperation, a race off the precipice

A slight tightening around the throat—enough that Clark could only make muted gasps—and a press of the fingers in just the right place had Clark desperate for release.

J’onn leaned forward, hissing, “Come for me.”

Clark’s mouth opened in a small and choked groan and his hips made stuttered thrusts into the circle of J’onn’s hand as he spurted over J’onn’s fingers and dripped onto the floor.

He shivered and shuddered as J’onn stroked him through it. There was nothing in their minds but each other, if only for that moment. J’onn rocked slightly against Clark’s hip, desperate for friction, contact, release, anything.

“On your knees,” he breathed, as soon as Clark recovered.

The tiny noise from the back of Clark’s throat almost made J’onn come right then and there.

Clark undid the button and fly of J’onn’s pants at an inhuman speed, pulling them down a little, as he sank to the floor.  He grabbed at him, one hand gripping the back of J’onn’s knee, the other smoothing up J’onn’s abdomen.

He was eager. That much was obvious.

Clark mouthed at the cloth-covered bulge, nuzzling at the heated flesh.

“Come on, Clark,” J’onn growled.

Clark smirked and pulled down the waistband of J’onn’s boxers, running his tongue shallowly along the length revealed to the air.

It was a mock-tentativeness that brought a wave of affection and frustration. But the tease didn’t last for long, as Clark leaned in and took J’onn’s cock into his mouth, bobbing slowly over his skin.

J’onn threaded his fingers through Clark’s hair, fisting it in a grip that was probably just shy of painful, if the moan around J’onn’s cock told him anything.

He thrust his hips into Clark’s mouth and swore under his breath.

Whatever control J’onn had was quickly fading and he couldn’t help but fuck Clark’s mouth. He knew from experience that the Kryptonian didn’t have a gag reflex.

J’onn set the rhythm, and Clark let him, alternating between languid and desperate. J’onn couldn’t settle on one: the urge to be gentle and rough warring with each other. But Clark didn’t protest and just let J’onn guide him.

“So good,” J’onn breathed.

Clark hummed around him, almost glowing under the praise.

Clark took him in again, relaxing his jaw, until J’onn could feel the head hit the back of Clark’s throat. J’onn suddenly had the urge to yank Clark to his feet, turn him around, and work him open with his fingers before fucking him.

Clark would let him; he would probably _beg_ for it.

“Fuck,” J’onn groaned, rocking his hips into the tight heat of Clark’s mouth.

He was close. He could feel pleasure building at the base of his spine and it had been so long since he had been with anyone.

While they couldn’t be telepathically connected, Clark could tell that J’onn was close to coming. Maybe it was the rhythm of his breathing, the slight tremor in his body. Clark bobbed his head, close, close until his nose touched the wiry hair at the base of J’onn’s cock and _swallowed_ around him.

“Clark,” J’onn gasped.

His fingers dug into his hair, keeping Clark in place as he pulsed in Clark’s mouth, coming down his throat.

Clark sucked on him through his orgasm, never choking, milking him dry, to the point where J’onn felt oversensitive.

J’onn untangled his fingers from Clark’s hair, letting his hands hang loosely by his sides.

Slowly, too slowly, Clark pulled off and released him with an obscene _pop_ , spit covering his lips and J’onn’s softened cock. Clark tucked him back in his pants and stood, wiping a hand over his mouth. His breathing was only a touch labored, but his hair was a mess, a blush high on his cheeks and a slightly glassy look in his eyes.

J’onn watched him, unsure of what to say.

But there didn’t seem to be anything for him to say. He could see the anger again, the betrayal, shuttering Clark’s expression almost instantly.

The moment had passed.

But before J’onn could say anything, Clark grabbed the front of his shirt and spun him around so he was the one with his back against the wall.

He barely had time to blink or let the slight daze settle before Clark was pressed up against him, pushing his tongue into J’onn’s mouth.

Clark’s mouth tasted like coffee and come and J’onn licked into the kiss, greedy, still wanting to take from the man standing in front of him.

J’onn wondered if he could convince Clark to stay. If Clark would let him, he would kiss and bruise a thousand apologies—apologies that really meant nothing—into Clark’s skin as J’onn pressed him to the mattress.

It would be just like old times. Back when they were lonely and clinging and searching, before that glowing green stone changed everything.

But Clark pulled away after a moment and J’onn let him. Clark didn’t look back as he left the apartment and let the door close with a soft click behind him.

J’onn didn’t move from where he leaned against the wall for several minutes. He listened as the footsteps got further away and disappeared as Clark took to the sky.

He exhaled and ran his tongue over his lower lip, feeling the bruise that was going to form and fade within the hour, unsure if Clark was still listening for him.

If they were going to be working closely together, it would happen again. J’onn knew that. Clark probably knew that too.

It was just a question as to who would break first.

**Author's Note:**

> …am I kicked out of the fandom yet?  
> Any feedback is appreciated!  
> Hit me up on [tumblr](tiaraofreylos.tumblr.com). Drop me an ask or a request or just to say hi!  
> Cheers!  
> ~Tiara of Sapphires


End file.
